


time to leave and turn to dust

by beggar_always



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beggar_always/pseuds/beggar_always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’s heard a lot of siblings fight, but he and Mal are inseparable.</i> or, Eames and Mal are half-siblings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time to leave and turn to dust

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off since October-ish. I originally prompted it on inception_kink...but no one claimed it so I decided to work on it on my own. For some reason I've just always assumed that Mal's parents weren't happy together...and things just went from there.
> 
> Unbeta-ed and probably full of weird half-American/half-British phrases since I'm American but tried to write from Eames's POV. :/ Apologies.
> 
> Title taken from The Cinematic Orchestra's "To Build a Home." I cannot recommend that song enough. Seriously.

They don’t meet until he’s nearly six years old. The girl is eight and storms out of the room as soon as he’s pulled into it. There’s a pretty woman looking down at him who doesn’t look very nice at all and he tries to hide behind his nan.

“He doesn’t look a thing like Stephen,” the woman says in a funny-sounding voice. His nan gives his little hand a squeeze.

“Yes, well, the test results will be in by the end of the week,” she says sharply to the other woman. He looks up at her, confused to hear her use the same voice he always gets when he’s in trouble on another grown-up.

He doesn’t remember much else from the visit except that the pretty woman is mean and his nan doesn’t seem to mind that he stays just slightly behind her. The girl doesn’t reappear.

\---

He spends most of his youth living with his nan. They move around a bit, so it’s hard for him to make friends, but he remembers that unpleasant woman and thinks it’s not all bad to live with his aging grandmother.

She dies two weeks before his thirteenth birthday.

His uncle, the one who hasn’t bothered to visit in nearly four years, shows up and tells him he’s going to live with his father in France. He doesn’t remember much about his father, he only ever met him that one time. He thinks he might be nice (he sent birthday and Christmas cards, at least), but he can’t help but remember the woman who will apparently be his stepmother and the girl who must have been his half-sister who hadn’t even been able to be in the same room as a five-year-old him.

His father hugs him awkwardly at the airport. His stepmother (who insists he call her Marie) is, at least, friendlier than she had been last time. The teenage girl who stands with them gives him a curious once over before completely ignoring him the rest of the trip to his new home.

\---

He learns exactly how he came into the world very soon after he moves in with his father’s family. He thinks he probably isn’t meant to overhear, but no one actually bothered to ask if he understood French before he moved into the home. His father, a university professor, had apparently met his mother, a graduate architecture student, while speaking at a conference in London. The word “affaire” wasn’t entirely new to him, he just hadn’t fully understood the concept before. Marie throws the word around constantly, usually when she looks at him. There are times when he thinks the woman wants to care for him, but she always shatters that illusion by muttering nasty things in French that she probably thinks he can’t understand. She’s apparently too Catholic to divorce his father and she seems to enjoy taking it out on his son.

He spends a lot of time hiding out in his room. Mallorie seems curious about him at the dinner table (the only meal he’ll agree to join the family for), but she avoids him elsewhere in the house. His father spends long hours at the university, most likely to avoid the wrath of Marie. It’s a lonely existence.

\---

He doesn’t think anyone can fully blame him for eavesdropping when they’re speaking right in front of him. Marie orders him to join the rest of the family for breakfast. His father tells her, rather politely, that the boy obviously just needs more time to adjust to the new home. Marie immediately goes off into a rant, leaving the two children to stare awkwardly at their plates as the parents snap back and forth at one another in rapid French. He only hears the words because he’s admiring the way Marie enunciates. Once his brain finishes translating, they hit him like a slap in the face.

The scrape of his chair along the hardwood floor startles everyone and they all see him flee the room.

It’s Mallorie who finds him, twenty minutes later, in the park a block from their house. She’s just turned fifteen and he already envies her grace as she sits quietly next to him on the bench. She doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Your mother died in a car accident on her way home to you,” she says in quiet French. He likes that she assumes he’ll understand. “She didn’t die because she wanted to get rid of you. My mother shouldn’t have said that.” She gives him a moment before she slips her hand into his. “I don’t hate you,” she tells him. “I just didn’t know how to act around you. My mother doesn’t like you very much and Dad just can’t decide what he owes you... Me? I think you’re okay.” She gives him a small smile and after a moment, he returns it.

\---

Marie’s attitude toward him doesn’t change. Luckily, his newfound friendship with Mallorie (Mal, she insists he call her) makes it more bearable.

He hadn’t even had any cousins growing up so to suddenly find himself with a half-sister just a few years older than him is something of a wonder. She helps him learn the language (he understands French well enough, but he’s still struggling for fluency) and lets him hide out in her room when Marie is on one of her rants. He’s heard a lot of siblings fight, but he and Mal are inseparable.

\---

It takes a few years, but Marie finally stops making slurs against him and his mother...at least when he’s in the room. His father is a little less awkward around him. It’s almost like they’ve settled into an average, dysfunctional family.

\---

He clings to Mal the day she leaves for a semester abroad in the States. She laughs and hugs him back. “I’m coming back,” she promises him. She gives him a warm smile when she manages to pull herself out of his arms. “You’d better call me.”

“Every day,” he promises with a grin.

\---

Mal’s the only one who doesn’t lecture him when he leaves his postgraduate program for the military. She’s also the only one he tells he was recruited for something a little beyond the standard military career.

“They aren’t going to brainwash you, are they?” Mal teases over the phone. He can’t help but smile; it’s so good just to hear her voice.

“Afraid they’ll ruin all your hard work?” He’s rewarded with a laugh.

“You know me so well, little brother. Be safe?”

“Of course.”

\---

The last person he expects to see walk through the door on the first day of the new round of experiments is his own father.

It’s seven different kinds of awkward but he’s fascinated by the PASIV and he’s spent the past several years admiring his father’s work as an architect.

His father is only around for the first round of tests, teaching the men how to build and helping them understand the structures that work best.

He’s glad his father leaves before they start learning how easy it is to kill and be killed.

\---

When it all goes to hell and he’s forced to leave the country to become a new man, he takes his nan’s maiden name. He’s always thought of himself as an Eames more than anything else anyway.

\---

He waits a year to go anywhere near Mal. She’s living in Paris again, seems to be getting pretty serious with some American bloke from their father’s class. He follows her into a cafe and grins when she spots him.

The happy reunion goes a bit to hell when Mal reveals she’s been working on a few dreamsharing projects of her own. Eames tries to reassure himself that hers are all private experiments; there isn’t a military institution forcing her to do unspeakable things in the name of Queen, Country, and Science.

He hates their father a little more for pulling her into the madness.

But he loves his sister, so when Mal asks him to run an experiment with her and her Cobb-person, he can’t deny her the assistance.

\---

The thing about dreamsharing is that it teaches you to expect the unexpected. Hell, sometimes Eames actively _creates_ the unexpected. The nature of the field is such that the most successful dreamers are those who can roll with the punches and adapt to unforeseen circumstances.

Eames isn’t at all surprised when Arthur punches him the moment he walks into Mal’s apartment. He’s slightly more surprised Arthur is even _there_...but, really, there are barely two dozen people in the entire world who even know what dreamsharing is -- he was bound to run into Arthur eventually.

Once the fists stop flying, and Mal has spent a sufficient amount of time glaring at them until they exchange forced pleasantries, they find they still work incredibly well together. It helps when they realize they’re both fugitives for the same reason. Their common ground lies in the countries they’ve left behind and the reasons they fought to get out.

\---

Eames had really been hoping Mal would be able to keep her experiments to a mostly-legal level. But Mal has always been crazy for adventure and apparently Cobb (her now fiancé) doesn’t even try to rein in her somewhat more ridiculous whims.

Of course he takes part in their first heist.

He and Arthur get spectacularly drunk when it’s all over with.

“Does Mal make you as nervous as she makes me?” Arthur slurs more at the scotch bottle than at Eames. Eames thinks about telling him about the times he used to stand in awe and watch Mal stare down Marie. He occupies his mouth with a sloppy kiss to Arthur’s cheek, instead.

“Let’s get naked, darling.”

\---

None of the other dreamers know that he and Mal are related. They’ve never really talked about why they don’t disclose this information; they’ve just fallen into the habit of not mentioning it. Not even to Arthur; not even to Cobb.

Everyone falls in love with Mal eventually, anyway. No one questions it when Eames stays close to her or when Mal pulls him into a hug every chance she can.

It’s fun to have their little secret.

\---

Eames stands in shock at the graveside. He waited too long to visit. James had just been a tiny bundle in Mal’s arms the last time he’d seen him; now he he fidgets on his father’s knee, looking like he’ll take off across the cemetery if Cobb lets him down for a second.

Eames can’t even look at Cobb. He doesn’t believe the whispers, but he’s heard them anyway; rumors as to what had really happened that night at the hotel. Eames remembers his last phone conversation with Mal; the odd questions she’d asked him...the way she’d reacted when he hadn’t known how to answer her. He’d known something was wrong but he’d been in the middle of a tricky job...

He can’t look at Cobb; not because he thinks the man killed his sister, but because Eames knows he should have phoned Cobb after Mal had hung up on him. If he had, if he’d told Cobb to keep an extra eye on her...

He thinks Marie will probably have an aneurysm by the end of the service. She seems to be ignoring the priest in favor of directing three separate glares at three different men: Miles, Cobb, and Eames. Eames wants to yell at her; to ask her if it’s worth all the hate, but he feels too drained to even bother to dredge up enough energy to glare back at her.

The service ends and Eames has no clue what he’s supposed to do once he’s dropped his rose on top of all the others. He looks for his father but finds he’s disappeared. He catches one last glare from Marie before he sees her collect the children and herd them toward the waiting town car. Cobb’s still standing over the grave, looking like he wants to go in after the casket. Eames looks past him and is startled to meet Arthur’s eyes. He’d noticed the other man had been close at Cobb’s side for much of the day, so he’s surprised to see he’s turned his attention on Eames.

Arthur tilts his head slightly to the side and Eames follows him a few paces away, giving Cobb some privacy, but staying close enough they can stop him before he does anything stupid.

“How is he?” Eames asks, knowing it’s a stupid question but having no clue what to say otherwise. Arthur answers him with a look that plainly says how stupid he thinks the question is. Eames sighs and looks away. “I...” Eames can’t remember what he was going to say so he clears his throat and tries again. “I’ll be in town a couple days; if they need anything,” he says, staring blankly at a tombstone a few feet to his left. “Is Marie looking after the kids?” Arthur looks a bit surprised by the question when Eames glances back over at him, but he nods.

“Miles has been in and out, as well,” Arthur adds. Eames gives an awkward nod of approval.

“I, uh...I’ll try to stop by before I leave,” he says. “I have a few things for the kids.” He turns to leave and is surprised to feel a light touch on his shoulder. He turns back to face an oddly concerned-looking Arthur.

Arthur looks like he’s about to say something, but he stops himself, dropping his hand. “You should come by tomorrow,” he says finally.

\---

He’s picked one of the nicer hotels for his stay; a place with a nice little mini-bar included. His initial plans are to get well and truly fucked after the funeral service, but instead he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, staring numbly at his hands for hours.

He and Mal had had a slow start as siblings, but once they’d begun to give each other a chance, they’d fallen madly in love with one another. She’d been such a remarkable woman...

Eames is startled out of his memories by a light knock on the door. A quick glance at the bedside clock tells him he’s not moved for nearly three hours. A few of his joints creak in protest as he gets to his feet and shuffles for the door. There’s a long list of people he isn’t expecting to see when he opens the door. Arthur is very near the top.

“Did I tell you where I was staying?” Eames asks in honest confusion. Arthur gives him a slightly muted version of his smirk as he brushes past him to enter the room.

“How many times have I tracked you down when we weren’t even in the same city to begin with?” he asks as his eyes scan the room.

“I do tend to leave a spectacular impression wherever I go,” Eames says with a sad smile of his own. “What might I be able to do for you this time, Arthur?” He nearly winces when he finds he’s drawn the full attention of Arthur to his person. The other man spends a moment looking him up and down.

“Cobb knocked back a couple sedatives; Miles agreed to stay at the house for the night to make sure Marie gives him some peace and quiet,” Arthur tells him. There’s a part of Eames that’s resentful his father hadn’t been a bit more willing to stand up to Marie those first few years after he’d been forced to move to Paris. “I came to check on you.” Eames frowns in confusion.

“Why would you need to check on me?” he asks. Arthur very nearly has the look of someone who rolls their eyes frequently.

“You buried your sister today,” he says. “People tend to have emotional fallouts attached to that sort of thing.” Eames gapes at him until Arthur sighs and really does roll his eyes. “If you and Mal had meant to keep it a secret, you did a horrible job.”

Eames tries for a clever retort, but he suddenly feels his face screw up with emotion and he turns away from Arthur, desperate to maintain some dignity. _Mal_. He’d give anything just to talk to her one last time.

He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until a gentle touch on his arm makes him open them again. Arthur’s sliding in behind him, his arms wrapping around Eames. He thinks about fighting it; about telling Arthur to get the hell out and leave him alone to grieve in peace. But the last thing Eames really wants is to be left alone. Before he can second guess himself, he turns in Arthur’s arms. They stare at each other for a moment before Eames leans in and kisses him.

It’s been awhile since they’ve done this (not since Mal and Cobb’s wedding, actually) but their lips feel familiar together and Arthur’s arms tighten just the right way as he presses up against Eames. In some odd way, it’s comforting to know that Arthur knew Mal, too. Eames knows Arthur loved her as he loved her. He’s not alone in his pain and something inside him eases at the realization.

Arthur backs him to the bed. Nimble fingers free him of his tie and go to work on the buttons of his dress shirt even as their mouths keep contact. Arthur only pulls back enough to get a look at Eames’s belt so he can quickly unbuckle it and soon enough, Eames is naked in front of him and falling willingly to the mattress when Arthur nudges him. Arthur strips efficiently before he joins him and then it’s all lips and tongues again as the other man settles on top of him.

Eames loses himself to the feel of Arthur’s lips as his mouth moves along his cheeks and his jaw, down to his throat. He’s felt so numb since his father had called him with the news; since he realized he might have been able to stop his sister from taking her own life. He makes a choking noise as the thoughts assault him again. Arthur had been somewhere in the middle of kissing his sternum, but suddenly he’s looming above him again, looking down into his eyes. Eames turns his head away, afraid for Arthur’s infamous insight but the other man reaches out with a light touch to his chin and turns Eames to face him again. Eames sees him open his mouth to say something, but he seems to think better of it because instead he leans in to kiss him again.

\---

Eames wakes to a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. Arthur is standing over him, fully dressed in his impeccable suit. It takes Eames a moment of sifting through painful memories to remember why the young man is in his hotel room, bestowing him with light kisses.

“I need to check on Cobb,” Arthur says once Eames has stopped blinking up at him in bewilderment. “Your father’s still at the house if you want to...” Eames shakes his head quickly.

“We’ve never been close,” he says as he sits up. “I don’t think I could face him right now. Definitely not if Marie’s still there, as well.” Sympathy is an odd expression on Arthur. Eames takes a deep breath. “I’ll stop by this afternoon,” he finally says. “For the kids; and Cobb.”

“I’ll see if I can convince Miles and Marie to go out for a few hours,” Arthur offers. He bends down and presses another kiss to Eames’s lips. It’s distressingly tender and Eames is grateful when he’s left alone again.

\---

Arthur doesn’t owe him anything; hasn’t since the Murdoch job when he’d saved Eames’s ass and finally settled a debt he’d owed since their days in the military. But now, he doesn’t owe Eames a damn thing, so Eames is baffled as to why Arthur looks so guilty when he tells Eames Cobb’s making a run for it and he’s following after.

“He needs someone reasonable to look after him,” Eames concedes as he lights a cigarette. He wasn’t all that surprised when Arthur phoned him, knowing he was still in town, and asked Eames to meet at a cafe not far from his hotel.

Arthur stares into his cup of coffee for a long moment before he lifts his eyes to meet Eames’. “What about you?” Eames frowns at him.

“What about me?” he echoes. Arthur sighs and looks out across the street. “Are you asking if I need a minder?” Eames scoffs when it finally registers in his brain just why Arthur seems so concerned. “I’ve been solo for the better part of a decade, darling. I think I can handle myself just fine now.”

Arthur looks at him again. His expression is one Eames isn’t entirely familiar with. It looks like concern, but there’s something in his eyes that looks a bit like fear...

“Mal was the only one you ever listened to,” Arthur says. “You always called her when you were uncertain about a job.” Eames wonders how the hell Arthur knows about that. Apparently he and Mal had been even closer than Eames had known.

“She always had a knack for reading people and situations,” Eames mutters before he takes a drag of his cigarette. “And she _always_ took my calls.” Eames takes a small amount of satisfaction in the guilty wince that flashes across Arthur’s face.

“I just...” Arthur clears his throat. “I was their point man. I know everyone there is to know in the business. If you need someone to call...” Eames fights the urge to smile. Arthur really can be adorable when he’s trying to be helpful.

“Arthur, are you offering to be my one phone call?” Eames can’t help but tease. Arthur rolls his eyes and drinks the last of his coffee. Eames watches as the other man pulls his wallet from his jacket to leave a few bills on the table, enough for both their drinks and an exorbitant tip.

“Reynolds called me about a job in Madrid,” Eames says as Arthur starts to rise. Arthur hesitates for a moment before he straightens fully.

“Is he still working with Rita?” he asks. Eames shakes his head as he stubs out his cigarette.

“Some new kid, Eric-something.” Arthur nods, seeming to know exactly who Eames means.

“He’s new but he’s good. And Reynolds isn’t half as crazy when Rita isn’t around to encourage him. Just...be careful?” Eames raises an eyebrow. He’s not sure Arthur has ever said that to him.

“I’m always careful, darling,” he says with a wink. Arthur rolls his eyes and turns for the exit.

“You know how to reach me,” he calls over his shoulder.

\---

If Mal were still alive, she could’ve told Eames that he should never, under any circumstances, take a job with the Henderson twins. As he’s lying in his dimly lit hotel room in a random Russian city he can’t even remember the name of, nursing three broken ribs and a probable concussion, Eames thinks he maybe should have taken Arthur up on his offer.

His mobile chirps from where he’d dropped it on the floor earlier. He briefly considers ignoring it, but text message warnings from contacts have saved his life more times than he can keep track of.

He groans and curses under his breath as he twists and leans over the edge of the mattress to pick up the mobile. He’s a bit surprised to see it’s a text from Arthur. “Heard about the Voronezh job. Lose any limbs?”

Eames smiles a bit as he types back, “Fingers and toes accounted for. Sorry to disappoint.”

Eames is barely expecting a text message in response. He’s completely startled when his mobile begins to ring a minute later. He’s so stunned, in fact, he barely manages to accept the call before it transfers to his voicemail.

“You should have called me,” Arthur says immediately. Eames sighs and rubs gently at his aching head.

“You’re in the middle of your own job,” he points out. Arthur is silent for a moment before he responds.

“That never stopped you from calling Mal.” Eames blames his exhaustion and pain for the anger that flares in his gut.

“Yes, well, you’re not Mal,” he snaps. Arthur goes silent again. Eames is on the verge of apologizing when the point man speaks again.

“We’re in Minsk,” he says, though Eames already knows this. He’s been keeping track of their progress, just as he knows Arthur has been keeping track of his. “We could use a forger.” Eames sighs and rubs his eyes.

“I very probably have a concussion,” he discloses. He’s tried to pull a job with a concussion before. Projections of an addled mind get very weird, indeed.

“Our window to nab the mark isn’t for another week,” Arthur tells him. There’s a part of Eames that wants to take a moment to consider just why Arthur is trying so hard to get him to Minsk. For years the man has preferred the company of others, even occasionally downright refusing to allow Eames onto whatever team he might be working with. “Call if you change your mind.”

Arthur hangs up abruptly, but Eames isn’t surprised. The man barely uses formalities for his employers; he certainly doesn’t waste them on sometimes colleagues that he doesn’t even like all that much.

Eames resumes his examination of the ceiling in his dimly lit hotel room in what he now remembers is Voronezh. He misses Mal. If she were in Minsk, he would be on the next flight. She would laugh as she hugged him, and then she would lay into him for not phoning to ask for her advice on the job before he took it. He can almost hear her in his head, her voice slipping unconsciously between French and English as she called him both “chéri” and “idiot.” _God_. He misses her.

Arthur will never be Mal. Which is actually a bit of a relief, really. He’s done things to the other man he would never even have dreamed of doing to his sister. But even beyond that, Arthur has no reason to love Eames.

Eames is so very aware that he’s lost the last person who truly loved him unconditionally.

He’ll catch a train to Minsk in the morning. He tells himself it’s only because he owes it to Mal to check up on Cobb.

\---

Arthur fucks him the night after they finish the Minsk job. When they’re done and Eames is trying to decide if he should slink off to his own hotel room, Arthur asks him to travel with he and Cobb to a job in Seoul.

“Koreans have never appreciated my talents,” Eames says dismissively, deciding he should find his pants after all. Arthur stays silent as Eames dresses. Eames has a momentary desire to undress all over again when he looks back to see the point man, still stretched out naked across the bed.

“Do you actually like team-hopping?” Arthur asks seriously. Eames looks away, finding one of his shoes on top of the dresser. Mal had asked him that question every time he’d finished a job with them. She’d always tried to convince him they all would have been invincible together. Perhaps if he’d stayed...

“I enjoy meeting new people,” Eames interrupts his own thoughts. It’s not a total lie. There’s something appealing in having new people to learn. “But actually, I think I might drop out of the game for a bit.” Lord knows he needs a holiday. He should have done it right after the funeral. “I have a friend in Mombasa. He’s always on me to visit.” Actually, Yusuf had threatened to shoot him next time he sees Eames. Eames is at least eighty percent sure he was just being dramatic.

Once Eames is fully clothed and shoed, he turns back to look at Arthur. Neither man says anything for a long minute.

“I’ll let you know when I’m back on the circuit,” Eames says finally, ducking his gaze away. “See if you have anything you need a forger for.”

“Sure,” Arthur responds. It’s obvious from his tone that the other man knows Eames plans to drop away.

\---

The last time Eames had been involved with a team attempting inception he’d ended up with a bullet in his thigh and three new scars across his back. And that had been in the waking world. He doesn’t like to think about what all had happened to him in the dream. He’d waited _months_ to take on another job after that, and it wasn’t because of his leg.

He hasn’t seen Cobb look so hopeful since he and Mal had announced they were expecting Philippa. From what he garners from the brief snippets of conversation he hears between Cobb and the notorious Mr. Saito on the way to Yusuf’s, this job may be the ticket to Cobb’s freedom.

Eames knows this job will end messy, but he can’t deny the father of his sister’s children his one chance to get home to them.

\---

It goes better than expected, but Eames still ends up with a killer of a migraine when they get off the plane. This job hadn’t been his first experience with Cobb’s projection of Mal, it wasn’t even his worst experience with Cobb’s projection of Mal, but Eames knows, even before he wakes, that that will be the last time he sees his sister in any form.

Their father tries to catch his eye in the airport, even as he leads a dazed Cobb out. Eames avoids his gaze and makes his own way toward the taxi queue.

He’s popular in LA; it’s a city that appreciates a man with many faces. There are no fewer than ten concierges who owe him favors within the city and he has no problem finding a room at a hotel not far from Cobb’s home. A small part of him expects Arthur to appear at his door, but he’s not all that surprised he spends the entire night on his own. He hears from Yusuf, knows his old friend is at a hotel across town. According to Ariadne’s Twitter, she’s visiting one of her old undergrad friends. Saito even sends along a text message through a personal assistant offering to pay his hotel expenses. Cobb _always_ holds a debriefing after a job, so Eames hangs around, knowing the other man will just recall him if he leaves early.

\---

Eames is surprised Cobb calls for the debriefing so soon. He’d booked his room for a full week, figuring it’d be at least that long before Cobb would be willing to leave his children for even just a few hours. Eames definitely isn’t expecting to get a call the very next day.

They meet in an office building unsurprisingly owned by Saito. There’s a boardroom that apparently has no standing board unless Saito feels the need to create one on the spur of the moment. Eames is the second person to arrive. Arthur, of course, is the first.

There’s an awkward silence between them that Eames can’t quite figure out. They’d been fine during the job, tossing around insults like they’ve done since their units had been forced to work together so many years before. But now, anyone walking into the room would be able to see how uncomfortable they are.

“Cobb’s retiring,” Arthur says, finally, after ten excruciating minutes of silence. Eames looks across the table at him, eyebrow raised.

“Do you honestly believe that?” he asks. It’s adorable to watch Arthur smirk.

“I think _he_ honestly believes it; for now,” Arthur responds.

“And what about you, darling?” Eames asks as he runs a thumb along the grain of the obviously expensive table. “Are you withdrawing from the game as well?”

“I could afford to...”

“Arthur, love, you and I both know you’ve been able to “afford” to for _years_ now,” Eames cut in. Only even considering the jobs they’ve worked together, the jobs Eames knows Arthur’s take for sure, either one of them could have retired comfortably long, long ago.

Arthur waits until Eames meets his gaze again to say, “There’s no point to a solo point man.” Eames recognizes a challenge when he hears one. Unfortunately, before he can respond, Ariadne and Yusuf arrive, arguing loudly about reality television as they enter the room. One more significant look passes between Arthur and Eames before Eames decides to jump into the conversation of the others.

\---

Eames is heading for the door, wondering if he has the guts to ask Arthur to order in a little room service with him, when Cobb calls him back.

“Before you leave town, you should stop by and see the kids,” Cobb says. Eames stands frozen by the door for just a moment. He turns slowly to better gape at Cobb. “They should get to know their uncle.”

“How...how do you know?” he manages to stammer after a moment. Cobb gives him one of his wry smiles.

“I could never figure out what sort of history you and Mal had together,” Cobb begins. Eames wonders if his voice will ever stop breaking slightly around that name. “I saw you at the funeral; you looked...you looked like I felt. Like...a part of you was gone. Things sort of started falling together after that. The real clincher, though, was seeing Miles trying to get your attention at the airport.” Eames feels himself blush slightly as Cobb laughs. “I don’t know why you two felt the need to keep it a secret...” Eames can her the hurt in Cobb’s voice.

“It was safer,” Eames insists. “First, because I was on the run. And then...there are a lot of people in this business who would have loved to have a tool to use against either one of us.” Cobb nods after a moment, seeming to accept the reasoning.

“Well, the kids already think of you as ‘Uncle Eames’ anyway,” he says with a friendly smile.

Eames laughs warmly. “I always warned Mal I’m determined to be a bad influence on her children...” Cobb cringes slightly at that.

“Well, I suppose I can always recruit their ‘Uncle Arthur’ to counteract any bad habits,” Cobb says. Eames’ gaze flickers involuntarily to the door Arthur disappeared through just a few moments before. When he looks back to Cobb, the older man is looking at him with a knowing smile on his face. “You know, when Mal tried to get you to join our team, it wasn’t just because she missed you or because you’re a good forger...” The information isn’t new to Eames. He’s always suspected Mal knew about his and Arthur’s dalliances and he didn’t doubt she approved.

“She just wanted you to be happy,” Cobb goes on softly. “Even without knowing she was your sister, it was obvious she cared about you a great deal.” Cobb smiles sadly. “Come see the kids,” he repeats. “You can help them remember her.”

\---

Arthur is waiting for him at the hotel and Eames really isn’t all that surprised. He stays silent from his perch on the bed as Eames moves around the room - taking off shoes, jacket, emptying his pockets on the dresser.

“Do you remember the first time we were all together in Paris?” Eames asks quietly as he leans back against the table in the corner to face Arthur.

Arthur’s smile is soft, fond. “I nearly broke my hand on your face,” he says quietly. Eames rolls his eyes but he can’t help but smile in return.

“I was relieved to see you.” Eames watches the flicker of confusion across Arthur’s brow. “There were rumors, just before I left the service...the Americans were preparing for a new experiment...wanted to see what long-term dreaming would do to a person.” Eames takes a deep breath. “They were looking for someone without any family...didn’t expect him to survive the experiment, apparently.” Arthur’s face hardens and he stares out the window over Eames’s left shoulder.

“He didn’t,” Arthur says darkly. “Remember Hunter?” Eames frowns.

“That kid that always dropped everything and could never even find a vein?” Arthur sighs and looks down at his hands for a moment.

“They didn’t feel like wasting one of their finest. The day I found out about it was the day I left.” Arthur’s gaze lifts to meet Eames’s. There’s a look there that Eames recognizes from his own reflection in the mirror.

“It’s been a long life, hasn’t it, darling?” Eames asks quietly. Arthur’s laugh is just slightly bitter. He stands from the bed and takes the few steps to stand in front of Eames.

“We’re old men, Mr. Eames,” Arthur agrees in a voice just barely above a whisper. He’s close enough now Eames can touch him if he just lifts a hand.

“Cobb thinks Mal wanted us all to grow old together,” he says in place of touching. A hint of a smirk forms on Arthur’s lips.

“You think we didn’t?” he asks. Eames thinks about the years his sister spent in Limbo, growing old with Cobb. He thinks about the first time he met Arthur, the youthful grins and the eager anticipation. He thinks about the day they all spent, living a whole year inside Mal’s head. The six months they lived two days later inside Arthur’s. The times apart and the times Mal drew them all back together with a phone call and a plea. He feels _ancient_ sometimes and he can read the same, now, in Arthur’s face.

“If she were here, she’d be laughing and calling us idiots,” Eames says quietly. Arthur smiles and finally steps in close enough they’re pressed together.

“Are you ready to live up to her expectations?” Arthur asks. It stings a bit, for Eames to know he’d avoided something his sister had wanted for him while she was still alive. But he knew Mal long enough and well enough to know she would’ve considered her untimely death an insignificant detail in her grand scheme of things.

Eames lets his hands settle on Arthur’s hips and he pulls the other man in closer. “I’m certainly willing to make a valiant effort,” he murmurs against Arthur’s lips.

\---

James barely knows him, but Philippa remembers him as the uncle with the funny accent and she still giggles whenever he speaks to her.

Arthur and Cobb have disappeared into the kitchen for a chat and the children are playing quietly in the corner of the living room when Marie walks in. She hesitates, blinking in surprise to see Eames sitting on the sofa. After a moment, she comes further into the room to sit beside him. Neither of them speak for several long minutes.

“I was never a very good mother to you,” she eventually says in quiet French, most likely to spare the children from hearing an awkward conversation. Eames glances at his stepmother, but doesn’t bother to deny her guilt. She’s busy watching the children playing in the corner. “It was...difficult to know how you came into the world.” She sighs. “I think of them, growing up without their mother and I can’t help but think of you growing up without yours.” She looks at Eames then. “You were Philippa’s age when I first saw you,” she says. “So young. And I was just...too angry. I’m sorry for that.” She reaches out and awkwardly puts her hand over Eames’s.

“You are not my child,” Marie says quietly. “But I could have been your mother.” She sighs again before she squeezes his hand and lets go. “Mallorie used to get so angry at how I treated you. You were very dear to her.”

“She was very dear to me,” Eames says hoarsely. Marie looks at him and gives him a sad smile.

“I know, mon cher,” she says half in English, half in French. Eames hears footsteps from the kitchen and he looks over his shoulder to see Arthur in the doorway, watching them. “He’s good for you, I think,” Marie says, in French once again. Eames looks at her in surprise and she smiles again. “I have paid attention to you, you know,” she tells him. “I’d better start dinner.” She surprises Eames still more when she leans in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek before she stands.

Eames is still staring at the spot his stepmother’s just vacated when Arthur appears to take her seat. “You okay?” he asks softly. Eames blinks at him as he considers the question.

“I think my stepmother just apologized for neglecting me during my childhood,” he mutters in disbelief. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, the sofa falls under attack by a mass of flailing arms and legs.

“Uncle Arthur!” James cries as he uses Eames as a ladder to get up on the sofa between them. “Can we build a fort?” Philippa is standing more quietly in front of them, waiting patiently while her brother chatters on, negotiating building plans with Arthur. Eames smiles at her and holds out a hand to help her climb into his lap.

He knows he will always miss Mal and he will always regret not having been around more to see her be a mother - a better mother, no doubt, than her own had been. But he’s content, for now, to sit with his niece in his lap and his nephew in Arthur’s. It feels like Mal is close and Eames smiles, meeting Arthur’s eyes over the top of James’s head. Maybe they should consider retirement, after all.

/end


End file.
